Solstice.

What Witch doesn’t love it?

This one.

As powerfully pleased as I am by the return of the sun, for the sake of my children, who need him, this is the last day I will have with darkness ascendant, it breaks my heart.

Let other Witches sing songs to welcome the new sun, mine will be a threnody. I could rightly call darkness my lover, by the effect it has on me, on my skin and pulse. Growing things rest in the dark, a new set of players comes out to hunt and hide, better eyes than mine will claim the night. I light something and sit in the small circle it makes, letting the blackness wall me in.

When the moon is out, you will find me In the woods, where I am an intruder, noisy and fretful, disturbing the hush, forcing them all to acknowledge my presence, everything pauses for me, since I do not belong.

I quite agree, I have yet to pay the real price for being out here in these sleeping trees. A shiver, it isn’t cold, I do this in the summer, but it always makes me tense, to start. Strip naked, pile my clothes on my bag, look at my shoes with longing. No, I must walk as I was born, as if I am just now dropped into this moonlit forest by my mother, the moon. She blazes in full glory tonight, I can feel her on my skin, her tongue as she licks me dry. Thank you my mother.

Walk out, back through woods, turn around to memorize the crooked spruce where I left my things. A tall, black sentinel in this forest of aspens, I’ll be able to find it. I follow the wildlife trails at first, much easier on my feet, but soon enough I abandon them, following whatever catches my eye. Step carefully now, paying attention with every sense I have. Acutely aware of my vulnerability, that’s the point. Still noisy, less so since I watch where I put my feet, I am searching for the Mother of this grove. As I have countless other moonlit nights, who knows if I will ever find her? No cheating, no asking questions, simply walk and learn.

Such predators as I might have to fear are hopefully confused by the abundance of lavender I rubbed my body with, flowered stems are tied in my hair, I am not a stupid Witch. No powers to keep me safe, I rely on what deceits I can muster stark naked. I’m not worried, this isn’t a medieval forest, or Pandor’s. Not long, an hour or two is long enough for my skin to have learned what it needs to know. I put my clothes back on, am I scratched and bleeding? Definitely, but it doesn’t bother me, pain is a different kind of lesson. Pick up my bag, I have a few things to collect, the trees told me that tonight is a giving night. Do I hug them? Of course.

At some point I stand and give thanks for the coming darkness. My children grow sleepy, some preparing for death, I soothe them, gathering them now, while they still have life in them. Life that I will extend indefinitely, in a myriad of ways, more things live forever than you know of.

Hours of moonlight and shadows, forcing my eyes to recognize minute details normally found by colour, in the sunshine. Harvesting by moonlight is not as easy as it sounds, when you collect dangerous things, you must be certain. Gathering naked is never a good idea, none of my spells call for plants with such strict requirements. Nakedness outdoors is for sensing, feeling, being very still and understanding what you really are, you will never feel your mortal flesh more keenly.

Look at yourself in moonlight, see how it changes you, remember that there are parts of you that you will never know. If the moon is full, and you are open wide, mind, soul and heart, you may see some of them, briefly.

“Some Unique Snowflake”  by Stumbleine                Be alone in the forest with it.